


Does not compute

by AllumetteRouge (RedRaidingHood)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Mostly Gen, Multi, Suicidal Thoughts, batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:46:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRaidingHood/pseuds/AllumetteRouge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles that never developed into fully fledged stories, yet.<br/>Summary of each chapter inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I don't know what to say [Tim, Dick, Jason & Bruce]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne  
>  **Summary:** Bruce should be out there, should fulfil the promise he had made instead of taking care of Tim. Not when nothing was wrong, really. Tim was fine, he was just having another episode.  
>  **[Warning: Tim mentions maybe wanting to be dead.]**

The sun was already setting when Tim woke up. He had slept in, not waking up when the alarm had rung - or rather he did wake up, only to shove the stupid, loud thing under the covers to stiffle the sound until it stopped. He hadn’t gotten out of bed afterwards.

Tim rubbed his face with both hands, stumbling into the kitchen. The dishes were spread all over the work space, but he still found a reasonably clean mug in the sink to shove under the coffee machine. He just needed a cup or two. Just a little pick-me-up until he would be able to face Dick at the cave. 

His brother had called yesterday, complaining how they hadn’t seen each other in _years_. Right. 

Sighing, Tim leaned against the counter, waiting for his coffee. He still felt loopy, which probably explained why the machine wasn’t working yet. He pushed the button and yawned, stretching a little to wake up. Swiping his tongue over his teeth, he contemplated brushing them, but he hadn’t unpacked after coming back from San Francisco last week. Or the week before? Something like that. Tim pushed the button again, frowning at the machine. He just wanted his coffee.

Dick had asked him to come over, but Tim. He didn’t really want to. 

The coffee machine made a sound like a cat who’d gotten under a lawnmower.

“Fuck,” he snapped, turning see why the hellish machine just wasn’t giving him his coffee, only to see  ‘Error’ blink on its display. His phone was ringing at the same time; Dick wanting to know why he wasn’t there yet, or maybe Kon again, telling him about that friend of his that kept leaving frogs at the farm. Or Cassie, or Babs, or who the heck ever.

He pushed the button on his machine again. He just wanted this one cup of coffee before. _Before_.

Another push, and a second, maybe a third for good measure, goddammit.

The machine sputtered to life with an aggravated sound, giving Tim a moment of relief before the hot beverage filled the mug to the rim and didn’t stop.  
His phone rang again while he watched the coffee spill over the counter.  
His chest hurt, and when had he stopped breathing? A giggle escaped him as the coffee machine gave a last noise of protest, its display going blank. 

Tim sank to the floor, leaning against the counter, not even caring when the liquid dripping on his back. Then, the coffee came gushing down, drenching Tim. He dived forward, not quite escaping. 

His phone rang again. Chocking on another laugh, he rolled on the floor, staring at the ceiling while taking that damned thing out of his pocket. 

“What?” he said, biting his lip not to laugh.

“Oh, hey, little brother! How are you?” Dick asked. “Are you okay? I called like a billion times.”

And that. Yeah. Yeah, Tim kind of noticed. “No, no I’m not, but I can’t talk to you, since you’re a dick. Get it? A dick.” Another burst of laughter punched the air from his lungs. His chest was heaving and the laughter turned to a sob. 

Tim didn’t mind the coffee spilling all over the floor. He didn’t care when the phone clattered on the linoleum and he hadn’t hung up, either. There was something wet on his face and his chest hurt and it was all so stupid, really. And he just didn’t know what to do.

 

Jason shouldn’t have been there. He shouldn’t have killed that man, because now, Tim would never get to the one actually pulling the strings. 

Because Jason had killed the middleman and he had been the one link Tim had had to the hostages. And now they would die. Or be sold. Whatever. This was on him. Was all Tim’s fault. If only he had been faster, had stopped Jason or had told the other, had gotten him into the loop the moment he himself had known. But he hadn’t. Tim’s fault.

He gritted his teeth, not caring to put his glove back on after feeling for a pulse. Instead, he threw it right at the stupid red mask Jason was wearing. “You freaking fuck-up,” Tim hissed, ignoring the sting in his cheek where Jason had gotten him earlier. “No wonder he never talked about you. No wonder you were this easily replaced.”

Jason snapped, just like he had snapped a few minutes ago. He was on Tim in a matter of seconds, his first punch a diversion, the second easily blocked, but it gave him an opening to draw his knife and Tim stumbled back. Jason didn’t usually pull a weapon on him any more. He didn’t, but. He had already killed tonight. 

Tim wanted to open his mouth, say something, find something to blame Jason for. But this was on him. Again. All his fault.

Jason was fast, getting close a second time. Tim stepped into his way, aiming to elbow Jason in the chest, but only swiped his side. Sloppy. Slow. Then Jason crashed into him, a hand on his throat, pinning him in place.

The familiar taste made Tim realize he had bitten his tongue, but he had never felt it. Hadn’t felt anything else either. His body had taken the punishment and Tim suddenly felt like he was drenched, submerged in water. Drowning. He retched.

Jason’s knife was digging into his armour, between his ribs. A good shove and it would be over.

Tim’s chest hurt but Jason didn’t move. He had stopped, just stopped and why?

“Can’t you just do it?” This wasn’t his voice. Didn’t sound like him at all. “Just. Get this over with.”

“You want me to kill you?” Tim couldn’t see Jason’s eyes through the mask, but he didn’t have to. Jason wasn’t moving, the pressure on his chest still lessened.

“Not exactly.” Because Tim wasn’t suicidal, he didn’t want to die. He just. It was too much. Make it stop. Just stop.

And then he was crying and shaking and the knife vanished somehow, Jason’s touch turning softer. The hand on his throat wandered to his neck and this close, he could see Jason’s eyes through the lenses.

It was his fault. Again, people died because of him and he swore he wouldn’t lose any more. Wouldn’t fail any more because failure meant death and it’s all on him. He wanted the knife back. Wanted the pressure on his heart.

Jason pulled him closer, close enough for their foreheads to touch, close enough to see each other, and Tim was still crying and his every breath hurt.

“I can’t do that, Tim,” Jason said, shaking him a little. “That’s up to you.”

“Figures.”

 

Not here, was all Tim could think. He had been able to avoid Dick, had dealt with Jason, but this. Not here. Not in the manor.

Tim stormed down the stairs, hoping to escape the feeling, be just a bit faster this time. Bruce couldn’t know. He wasn’t Robin any more, wasn’t a child any more and Bruce needed his partner stable. Not - not _this_.

Tim stumbled down the last steps, rubbing his cheek and biting into the flesh for a moment. His heart was pounding against his ribs and his legs were shaking, but he needed to move. Get out of here before Bruce saw.

He was fumbling with the doorknob, turning and twisting and somehow still not able to open the door. Holding the knob in both hands, Tim closed his eyes. Tears were pooling at the edges and all he wanted was to get away. No matter where, just not here. A sob, turning into a soft wail before he even felt himself making the sounds. 

Numbness and nausea told him he was already too late, had already failed again. Had failed Bruce.

Tim banged his head against the door, rolling his forehead against the ancient wood. Trying to still his sobbing only made him choke and cough and cry even more because it hurt.

And then, Batman was there and Tim had to laugh. Laugh, because there was the goddammed Batman looking at him like he hadn’t known his kid was a fuck-up. Like he didn’t recognize the sobbing and sniffling and laughing ball of problems at his front door.

Batman didn’t seem to mind the snot and tears getting all over him when he bent down to pick Tim up. It was a short trip to Bruce’s room and Tim still felt like retching. He was supposed to say something, right? He was supposed to compose himself and not be some kind of unpredictable, moody snot-machine. Batman was supposed to be out there, kicking ass and taking names, not tucking Tim in his father’s bed like he’d had a nightmare. A small, awkward part of him made Tim hold onto the cape, his fingers tight around the edge, not letting go even as Batman became Bruce.

The cape was heavy on his shoulders when Bruce wrapped it around Tim, but he didn’t mind. He liked it. Liked the feeling of Batman around him; grounding him.

Only when the mattress shifted and Bruce sat down beside him, Tim felt the shame. And he felt so, so ashamed because, _Was that really necessary, you weenie?_ _Now Bruce knows and you don’t even have a reason, you can’t explain!_

Tim stilled, everything pausing inside him, waiting. But Bruce wasn’t asking anything, he just got his feet up on the bed, his arm around Tim and a book in his hand. 

The tension seeped out of Tim, opening him up and leaving him raw. Bruce should be out there, should fulfil the promise he had made instead of taking care of Tim. Not when nothing was wrong, really. Tim was fine, he was just having another episode.

It was Dickens. Of course it was Dickens. Tim stifled the residual sobs in his father’s chest, Batman’s cape around him. And Bruce read him Dickens. Because he liked Dickens and Tim liked his voice.

Bruce hadn’t left his side the whole night, even when Tim had finally fallen asleep. Tim had woken up feeling guilty, trying to sneak out of the bed but his father had already been awake. They had resettled in Bruce’s study then, where Alfred had served them breakfast hours ago. And Bruce. He hadn’t asked. He was just letting Tim lay down again, his face buried in Bruce’s stomach while his father read.

Eventually, the door opened, pulling Tim out of his bubble and back to reality. Back to the manor and to his responsibilities and failures. Tim didn’t need to look to know who had entered the study. His muscles stiffened and he shifted closer to Bruce. He had been avoiding Dick. Because avoiding his brother had been easier than seeing the look in his eyes when Dick realized how broken his little brother was. Again. _Still?_

“He’s meditating,” Bruce rumbled, as if citing Tim.

Dick chuckled fondly, “He’s gonna suffocate one of these days.”

“Possibly.” There was laughter in their voices, happiness, and Tim wanted to keep that.

Dick crouched down in front of the couch, carding his hand through Tim’s hair. “I love you, little brother.”

And Tim. Tim relaxed, and still felt so, so guilty, because he had conditioned himself to want this, to carve this attention and love, even if he would never deserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you have time <3


	2. You can run on for a long time [Jason & Steph]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** Jason Todd  & Stephanie Brown  
>  **Summary:** “You wanna kill him?” _(For what he did to your friend)_ – “No.” _(But I want him to pay for it.)_ – “You gonna stop me?” _(I will make him pay.)_

He never went to college.

Jason ignored the students stepping around him. Sitting in the middle of the steps meant he was in their way, and that was just fine with him. He _wanted_ to be seen.

“Do I want to know what you’re doing here?”

Smiling around his cigarette, Jason turned to her. Batgirl. Stephanie Brown. Who went to college.

“Come sit.” He patted the step beside him, but Steph kept standing, her arms on her hips. She was gorgeous; filling the suit out at night just fine. But not as good as Babs. Never as good.

“What do you want?”

Jason shrugged. “World peace? Roof over my head and a full stomach? A fourth season of Hannibal? What does everybody want?”

Her gaze softened a little, resigning to this conversation. This time, she sat down when he slapped the step again. “This your newest dastardly crime? Blocking the way to class for everybody? And enlisting me to help?”

“Curses, foiled again,” he laughed soundlessly.

“Why me?”

“You just take that much space sitting here with your huge–-”

“–- Call my ass fat, I dare you.”

“Ego. I was going to say ego.”

He didn’t look at her, just dragging at his cigarette like this was the most normal thing. As if they hung out. 

“Seriously,” Steph said, her voice dropping. Jason was dangerous. He’d always be, no matter how nice he played with everyone these days. “Why are you here?”

“Courtesy I guess.” He settled the cigarette between his lips, reaching into his jacket and producing a folded piece of paper. “You know her?”

Steph took it from him, opening it up and staring into the eyes of one of her classmates. Lisa Jurgens. It was her profile picture on most social websites; she in front of the Eiffel tower from her last vacations. Lisa had told her all about the trip in detail and Steph had only been slightly jealous. Being Batgirl meant spending her vacations the same as ever - only with more time to sleep during the days.

Jason had pulled another photo from his pocket and gave it to her wordlessly. It was one of her teachers, Mr Denvers. 

“What’s this?” Steph asked, handing the pictures back. “Why are you showing me these pictures?”

Jason took a last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it on the step. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes when he fixed his gaze on her. “Told you. Courtesy. This is your turf after all.”

Because Jason never went to college.

He kept looking at her, wanting to see her reaction. “Your friend won’t come to class anymore, BG. And your teacher’s last class ends in about ten minutes.” He was looking at his watch at the last part, his eyes skipping back to her when he’d finished.

What happened? Why wasn’t Lisa coming back? And Mr Denvers’ last class? Wouldn’t be until in another four weeks when the holidays started.

“There’s been an incident at his last school,” Jason went on. “The girl was never found, but another one was. The first one. When _he_ was still going to college. Got away with a slap on the wrist that time.”

Steph steeled herself against the venom in Jason’s voice. “You’re saying my teacher does what? Kidnap girls?” 

“I’m saying, he’s _destroying_ lives.”

“You can’t just kill him!” Steph balled her fists. “You don’t even got proof.” Jason was dangerous, was a _killer_ and she could take him. Probably.

He watched her for another moment, then stretched his legs just in time to make another group of students step around them in a wider circle. “Why not?” He wasn’t looking at her. “He’s done it before and he’s doing it again. You yourself tried to put him behind bars once.”

And… he wasn’t wrong. Steph had seen Mr Denvers grope some girls. She’d broken into his office and found pictures of the cheerleaders, of them in the showers and the changing room. The police hadn’t found anything later. It had been… frustrating. But… she’d never seen him as more than a pervert. A disgusting person, but still –

– “He’s still a human being.”

Jason snarled, anger flaring up in his voice. “He’s not. He’s a dog and I’m gonna put him down.”

She didn’t want to know. She didn’t, because she _knew_ already. Why he was here. Why he came and told her about it. 

He’d found Lisa. Her friend. 

Swallowing, Steph hugged her legs to her chest. She didn’t like this. “We need to inform the police.”

Jason scoffed, both of them looking straight ahead. “Yeah, like the first time he raped that girl? When he got away because ‘boys will be boys’ and his promising football career.”

“The jury… there was no proof.”

“Don’t you feel dirty even saying that?” He looked at her and knew he was right. Steph had read the case files too, she’d asked Oracle to dig them up for her, tell her if there had been incidents before the groping and the pictures she’d found in his office.

“Think about it,” Jason kept going, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s proven incorrigible, he’s done it before and he’s doing it again. No rehabilitation possible. So how many lives are we gonna let him destroy?” 

He was smiling. Steph knew from experience that it wasn’t happiness tugging at his lips; it was anger. “When you put him on court, what will he get? A few years if we’re lucky. Just like the slap of the wrist he already got in his youth. Where’s the justice in that? What would you tell Lisa?”

Lisa. Jason… did he really find Lisa? She’d been a friend of Steph’s, had eaten lunch with her regularly. 

“Jason, what happened to her?”

“I was too late is what happened.” His smile grew, baring his teeth at her. “Found her behind a dumpster. Two stories above, that asshole was washing her blood of his hands. I didn’t know. Hadn’t been there. Girl told me his name at Leslie’s.”

Steph perked up. If Lisa had still been alive when Jason’d brought her to Leslie, they’d have a case. She could get the cheerleaders to testify at court, they’d have Dr. Thompkins’ report, maybe Lisa wouldn’t even testify herself. “So we call the police. This time, there’s definite proof. He’ll get what he deserves!”

The smile turned into an ugly grimace, Jason no longer trying to reign his anger in. “What! Are you stupid? He won’t. Have you been in prison? Those wankers on death row? They watch TV, they enjoy their lives for another 20 years before they are executed. There’s priests and lawyers and they get the chance to prepare, to make a will and a last statement. That what he deserves? Lisa didn’t get that luxury.”

“Every life is precious, Jason!”

“I fucking _know_. That’s _why_. He raped her and killed her and there’s nothing more valuable than what he took from her. Don’t tell me he deserves what he took from her. Don’t tell me he deserves to live. _Don’t insult her_.”

Steph kept silent, stunned by his passion and fury. She couldn’t object, she couldn’t even completely disagree. _Lisa was dead_. Mr Denvers had killed her. He _needed_ to be punished, but still… what made Jason judge, jury and executioner? They couldn’t even pin this on Mr Denvers without a doubt. Jason’d heard Lisa tell him, and as much as it sickened Steph to think like that… was this proof enough? Would the court think so? Lisa was dead, and so was Jason legally. He couldn’t even testify; all they’d have would be Leslie and those cheerleaders. Even if Denvers did it, even if he did…

“And if the law will not bring this asshole to justice, I will.” Jason gritted his teeth, rummaging through his jacket. “I’m not saying ‘kill everyone’,” he said when he’d found his cigarettes and put another between his lips. “I’m saying ‘kill _that_ _one_ ’.”

He snapped his lighter open, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. He was calming down, smoking and watching her. “Nothing to say?”

She shook her head, hugging her legs tighter. “No.”

Jason took a drag, letting everything sink in. “ _You_ wanna kill him?” He finally asked, offering the cigarette to her.

_(For what he did to your friend)_

“No.”

_(But I want him to pay for it.)_

The steps under her were hard, her whole body hurting by now. Her friend was dead and she hadn’t even known. The man who’d killed her… Steph had known about him. No one could’ve prevented what’d happened to Lisa, yet it felt as if… as if it had been her. As if it had been Steph herself killing her friend. Because she hadn’t done her job, hadn’t done _enough_. _Batgirl_ hadn’t been enough.

Jason’s voice was calm, gravely. “You gonna stop me?” 

_(I will make him pay.)_

Like a promise. And that’s why he came here, right? Because she was responsible for Lisa Jurgens’ death. And Jason. Jason gave her an out, didn’t he? So she wouldn’t be responsible for her murderer not being punished? 

“Right.” Jason stood up, cigarette burning between his lips. “Class ends now. Permanently.”

Or was he making Steph responsible for Denvers’ death with this too? Didn’t she need to stop him? Didn’t she need to protect Denvers?

“Wait! Don’t do it.” Her body moved without her brain; her hands grabbing Jason’s jeans and holding him in place.

He looked down at her, smiling when she tried to blink the tears away. “Didn’t you listen?”

“I did,” Steph confirmed, clenching her jaw. “Still. We don’t kill.”

Jason crouched beside her, prying her hands off, the cigarette’s smoke stinging her lungs. “Yeah, and I don’t see the point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you have time <3


	3. This day’s as scary as all the others [Tim & Kon]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** Kon-El & Tim Drake  
>  **Summary:** Tim had asked Kon to stay with him at Halloween. Because someone has to get the door and hand out candy and stuff.

Kon closed the door behind him, setting the bowl back on the sideboard where Tim had left it. “I don’t get it,” he said, watching his friend suck on the cord of his hoodie. “You’re capable of fighting Killer Crock but unable to hand out treats on the same day?”

Tim shrugged, heading back into the living room. “That’s what you’re here for.”  
He sat down on the couch, grabbing the remote and giving Kon a look that clearly meant _Are you coming? Because I’m gonna watch Nightmare before Christmas with or without you._

For a moment, Kon contemplated speaking up before sitting down. He silently watched as Tim pulled the cord between his teeth, his eyes glued to the TV screen. This wasn’t the Tim he had met all those years back. The Tim who had punched him with a Kryptonite ring pretty much the first chance he got and laughed at him for it. Wasn’t the guy who had been lying through his teeth all the time either.

Tim stopped the movie, the corners of his lips turned down. “Can we just not talk about it?”

“Not talk about the fact that my best friend’s too anxious to answer his own door? That a few years back you were perfectly fine with bossing everyone around who even looked like they had a chance of smashing you into a brick wall?”

It wasn’t fair, really. He loved this guy, he did. Tim was his best friend and then some, but he also was Kon’s confidante, their friendship one of the very foundations Kon had built himself on. No matter in what kind of trouble they got themselves into, as long as Tim was there, he knew everything would be okay. Tim was like - like physics. Gravity. 

Seeing Tim now - a kid in a worn-out Green Day hoodie that got fumbled and picked at way too much - this Tim made Kon feel helpless.

He only realized how tight he was clenching his fist when Tim put a hand on his. “Kon,” he insisted softly. “Look at me.”

Sighing, he turned his hand, squeezing Tim’s fingers between his own. “Dude, I’m sorry. I just can’t let this go. You’re my best friend, man, and I’m worried as heck.”

That got him the smile he always hated. The one he feared because it was accompanied with words meant to allay his fears, no matter how justified they were. 

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m not starving and I go out each night without problems.”

“You get your groceries online,” Kon groaned, readjusting his grip on Tim’s hand. “And Red Robin leaves the house, not you. Not Tim. When was the last time you went to the movies?”

“Last week with Dick.”

“Yeah, but who talked to the cashier? Who orders pizza when you’re hanging out?”

Tim opened his mouth to retort, but only pulled his hand back instead. Before Tim had come into his life, Kon hadn’t had much of a purpose. He was fighting and drifting along, but then he had been fighting to prove himself - or prove Robin wrong. It hadn’t mattered. The more they grew together, the less Kon hated him. Robin, the Boy Wonder. This idealized child prodigy. Now he was just Tim and that guy had more of an impact on Kon’s life than Robin could’ve ever had.

“You get anxious waiting for the delivery guy.”

Tim crossed his arms, looking a little more like the petulant punk Kon had fought Ivy with. “What if I’d have to pee? What if they’d come just when I was in the bathroom, huh?”

It’s a distraction tactic, Kon knew. Tim didn’t really do personal; he’s allowed to know everything about you, up to the colour of your underwear, but his own demons? He’d rather tackle them alone. If at all. He might come and hang out, get some kind of assurance from his friends, that’ll keep him happy for a bit, but he wouldn’t freely talk. Not when you weren’t prying and the stars aligned just right.

“Tim, is there something wrong,” Kon started to ask carefully, but Tim’s hackles were up in a second.

“– With me?,” he spat.

“No! No, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then why are you–”

“– Tim!” Kon interrupted. “I get it. You don’t want to talk about it. Fine.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Just. Just know that I’m worried, okay? And that I’m here for you if you want to talk.” He tried to smile at his friend. “Or if you need someone to deal with the kids at your door.”

Tim’s eyes went wide for a moment before he bit his lip and the fond smile could fully bloom. “…Or the delivery guy.” 

“Or the delivery guy,” Kon agreed, not even trying to stop his own grin.

Tim grabbed the remote, turning the movie on again. He sat back, let himself slide against the couch and pressed his cheek into Kon’s shoulder while Lock, Shock and Barrel kidnapped Santa. “Thanks,” he said.

Kon draped his arm around him, hugging his friend close. “Sure, man. Any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you have time <3


	4. Sugar and Cyanide [Jason/Tim]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** Jason Todd/Tim Drake  
>  **Summary:** Jason likes Tim. It’s no big deal, really. Only it is.

Early in his life, Jason had already learned quite a few lessons more privileged children would never have to learn, and one of them was to cherish a moment to the fullest when it was as good as this one - it would get worse soon enough again. So, deafening his own mind that screamed at him to get his careless ass out of bed, he kept his eyes closed, revelling in the soft breath against his shoulder and drawing lazy circles on Tim’s back with his fingers.

They were laying in bed together and Jason was sure Tim would bolt the second he woke. With or without coffee first. He had known the other long enough to know how skittish Tim could be, and it sure as hell wasn’t a normal occurrence to wake up cuddled against each other for them. No matter how easily Jason could get used to Tim’s warmth in his bed.

Sighing, Jason carded a hand through his hair. He hadn’t actually planned on sleeping in the bed when he’d dragged Tim back to his place last night. He hadn’t planned on the little bird being that exhausted, that trusting to sleep this deeply, not stirring at Jason’s ministrations at all, either. Now, he really didn’t know what to _do_. No fibre in his body _wanted_ to move, although his brain was practically screaming at him. Tim would run, he would avoid Jason for weeks; he would do his stupid Tim-thing and do stupid things that fucked him up just bad enough not to kill him, and for fucks sake, Jason couldn’t deal with this. Not right now, not when his body was conditioned to _revel_ in this feeling, to _desire_ this form of contact.

The little bird would overreact and Jason would lose... whatever it was they had slowly built up to all this time. Fucking Scarecrow.

Rubbing his eyes one-handed, Jason tried to get a grip, unconsciously squeezing Tim a little tighter to his side. Life sucked. Hard. And whoever had just let himself into Jason’s apartment would face his building anger at pretty much everything. Scarecrow, Tim, mostly himself. He wasn’t up for this.

Training kicked in, his blurred mind focusing on the noise he’d heard coming from the front door. The intruder obviously had a key, which slimmed their identity down to Babs, Cass and... no. Nononono, he really wasn’t up for _this_. Not when ‘this’ meant one Dick Grayson leaning against the doorframe of Jason’s bedroom with his arms crossed over his chest and this fucking knowing smile on his stupid face. Jason wanted to hit him. Hard. With a brick.

“’s not what it looks like,” he hissed and cursed at Dick’s ever growing grin.

“Yeah, right, little wing.” His gazed softened when he glanced over Tim’s sleeping form, but settled back on Jason soon enough. “C’mon, let’s not wake Timmers.” Not waiting for Jason to untangle himself, the elder turned and walked outside, probably plopping down on the ratty couch in the living room from the sounds of it, and Jason really wished he’d dreamt the whole encounter. There were lots of better ways to wake up. Lots and lots of better ways _and Tim was warm, okay?_ He still needed a moment to coax his limbs to move.

“So, you guys finally talked,” Dick said as soon as Jason sat down beside him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Not quite.” Patting his slacks for smokes would be useless, but the urge still remained. Taking a quick look around, Jason found his jacket where he had discarded it earlier this morning. All the way over there, by the window. Life sucked.

Next to him, Dick shifted on the couch, eyeing him intently and fuck, Jason really needed that cigarette. “So you didn’t talk.”

“Look” Jason moved to get up, not looking at his friend. “I told you it’s not what it looked like, ok? Bad patrol, fucking Scarecrow and really too much beer, you get me?”

“Little wing--”

“--Don’t. Don’t ‘little wing’ me. Not now. Just not now.” His voice faded at the end, the jacket in his hands feeling much heavier than it usually did. The anger wasn’t ebbing away any time soon and just because he wasn’t bashing someone’s head in, didn’t mean he didn’t want to maim _something_ right now. But of course, Dick was pulling his shit little ‘good brother’ routine and was actually listening, obviously wanting to help, and Jason couldn’t deal with that right now either. All of this was just so fucked up.

“You really do have it bad for him, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. Dick knew exactly how hard Jason had fallen for the kid. Hard enough it hurt.

The windowsill was wide enough for Jason to sit on while he smoked and it gave him some distance to Dick, who was still sitting on the ratty second-hand couch, looking just like Jason felt for most of the time they were talking about this. About Tim.

“This sucks.”

“Jay, you should talk to him. What is the worst that could happen?”

Raising an eyebrow, Jason only grinned sardonically.

“No, seriously. Look at Steph. Tim -- Tim is a coffee-addicted geek, a stupid, careless slob with no taste whatsoever and honestly, I love that kid to bits, but he’s also a bit of a freak. He still wouldn’t cut someone out of his life just because-- Yeah. Just because. You know?”

Jason’s second eyebrow joined its counterpart.

“I get it. I do, Jace. I’m just saying.” Dick waved his hands about, trying to explain.

Holding the smoke in his lungs hurt. It always did, but it calmed Jason down a little too. It wasn’t that Dick was wrong per se; Tim was a good kid. Stupid and absolutely clueless when it came to any of his relationships, but a genius nevertheless. Dumb little weirdo.

Settling a bit more comfortably on the sill, Jason crossed his arms in front of his chest, hiding the budding smile behind the hand holding his cigarette.

“And you make each other happy.” Dick. Stupid Dick, not fooled even a little.

Taking a last drag, Jason threw the butt in his ashtray, closing his eyes and holding the smoke in his lungs one last time before looking at his brother and letting it all out. “Yes. Yes, he does.”

“And you do too,” Dick insisted, patting the place next to him on the couch.

Jason, being the asshole he was, sat down deliberately close enough on the worn-out cushions to jostle the other. “Whatever. What brings you here anyway? Don’t tell me it’s time for your fucking attempts at ‘brotherly bonding’ or whatever you wanna call that dumb shit.”

“You wound me, little wing. When isn’t it time for some--”

“--Oh don’t you dare, you effing fruitcake!”

“Language, Jace, watch your language. This isn’t how Alfred raised you.”

Their laughter felt good. It always did, even if Jason never would admit it to the elder. Would never actively seek out his counsel or anything like that. But... that didn’t mean he wouldn’t talk to Dick either. Not when he was there and _knew_.

Putting the anger and hurt that had been boiling in his chest away wasn’t that hard when they were no longer talking about the scene in Jason’s bedroom. The usual slight irritation and even a familiar kind of fondness Jason had first been in denial about settling in like it always did when Dick was playing big brother. It was just that easy and just that annoying and actually really, well, nice.

The soft music from the bedroom was just background noise until Tim emerged, dressed Jason’s shirt and jeans, his cell phone pressed against his ear and an annoyed frown on his face.

“Yes, yes I know. I just told you-- Yes.”

His brothers watched him, both with an amused smile on their faces. Tim hadn’t even had his first cup of coffee yet and alone the fact that he was speaking actual words to the person on the other end was just plain miraculous. Jason snickered softly, exchanging a quick glance with his older brother.

Tim rolled his eyes at them, but kept listening to his phone. “I’ll be quick, ok? Just--” He took the last few steps towards the couch, grabbed a pillow and proceeded to whack Jason with it before going back to his conversation. “ _Someone_ was meant to wake me up.”

Mock-scandalized, Jason turned to the eldest. “Did that nutjob just slug me with a pillow?”

“Interesting how his brain can already tell who he needs to clobber without a drop of coffee,” Dick hummed.

“That’s what’s going through that tiny raisin you call a brain? I just got mugged, you little Justice Leaguer.”

“It’s not mugging if he doesn’t take--”

“--He just vanished into my kitchen, Dick,” Jason laughed, looking after Tim. “He’s _going_ to raid my pantry.”

“Shame he doesn’t know you’d let him to raid your pants.”

And for that, Dick got the pillow in his face. Maybe a little harder than actually deserved, but it’s the principle of things and yeah. “Oh, shut up, shutupshutupshutup!”

After a bit Tim came back, and settled between them, still talking on his phone. He handed the peanut butter sandwich he’d made to Dick, reaching for the laptop on Jason’s coffee table in the same motion. “Look, Tam, I’m on it. Sending you the presentation now.”

Dick leaned back shaking his head a little and taking a bite. The couch wasn’t tiny, but with all three of them on it, it felt cramped.

Jason watched in amused confusion when Dick leaned over a little, shoving the toast back in Tim’s face while the laptop booted up. Tim took a bite without even looking.

It wasn’t really a surprise that the kid knew Jason’s password though; it hadn’t even taken one week of working together for Tim to pretty much hack any electronic device Jason owned just for the heck of it.

Dick helped himself to another bite while avidly watching Tim’s keystrokes. Evidently, now Jason would have to change his password, because if Dick got a hold of the laptop he would use his new-found knowledge to at least change its language settings to Norwegian.

Rolling his eyes, Jason leaned back. He could feel Tim move beside him; warm just like he’d been in bed. Dick was probably watching him. Seeing how torn he felt. Dammit.

“All right, Tam,” Tim said eventually, closing the laptop and swallowing another bite Dick had fed him. “I’ll be there in a bit. See you.” He moved to hang up and push both, phone and laptop, back on the table. He was still wearing Jason’s clothes and shoved his shoulder into Jason’s chest when he let himself fall back. “You promised to wake me.”

“Yeah, well.” Gritting his teeth, Jason stretched, escaping the warm body that leaned against him for a moment, before he opened his eyes and took the stupid kid in. “You needed those hours. Heck, you still need some more, you look like crap.”

“Gee, thanks, Jay.”

Jason felt the anger return with a vengeance. He was exasperated, had just patched the kid up last night, had listened to his fear gas-induced rambles and had held him through the worst of it. And Tim still wasn’t taking it slower. It was just a stupid WE meeting, dammit.

Sighing, Tim ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at him. Stupid kid. Stupid, stubborn kid. “Guess I’ve overstayed my welcome anyway.”

Biting his tongue, Jason just closed his eyes again, swallowing the pain he felt at Tim’s acidic tone. His fingers grabbed at the fabric of his pants. He needed another smoke. Like right now.

“Dick,” Tim kept his voice blank and stood. Jason felt it, the cold that seeped into him when the warm body next to him left. “Sorry I can’t stay much longer, but as you didn’t even expect me to be here, that shouldn’t be a problem. See you or whatever.”

Stupid Tim. Stupid, dumb little weirdo. Wasn’t even slamming the door.

He run his tongue over his teeth before unclenching his fists. Dick was watching him; still watching him like that stupidly attentive asshole he was. “See?” Waving one hand in the general direction to the door, Jason stood up. “That’s why I can’t tell him.” He cursed under his breath, going to the window to smoke (and Dick would know this was Tim’s doing, too. Would know the kid requested he smoke at the window, since this _is_ Jason’s place and he could smoke wherever.) “Stupid Tim. Stupid, fucking Tim.”

“Don’t let him hurt you, Jay. Don’t let him break your heart.”

Jason rubbed a hand over his face. Blinking fast to focus back on the other. He really needed that cigarette. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about the kid?”

Dick smiled at him from the couch, a sad, fond smile that didn’t really make it to his eyes. “Tim’s a genius, sure, but believe me, Jason, he’s also stupid. Between the two of you, he’s the one who doesn’t realize what’s happening. What he’s doing to you.” He leant forward, resting his arms on his knees. Jason had found his smokes, put one between his lips. “And you dumb nut won’t do anything about it.”

He held the smoke in his lungs, tasting the addiction; feeling it hurt, feeling it slowly kill him. “I fucking _can’t_. Not when he doesn’t want it. I won’t do anything he doesn’t want.”

Dick sounded more hurt than Jason felt, not like the numbness in his chest, not like the resignation he felt towards the whole situation. “Shit, little wing... You got it bad, don’t you?”

Blowing the smoke inside the room, Jason dragged his thumb over his lips. “Just. Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you have time <3


	5. I'm lost. Please don't follow [Tim & Bruce]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** Bruce Wayne/Tim Drake  
>  **Summary:** Tim feels restless and just wants to talk with his dad. Not put his foot in his mouth.

Bruce was running on the treadmill now for thirty-three minutes and Tim was bored of waiting on his father to finish his training. Sitting up in the chair Batman usually occupied in front of the giant screens, Tim stretched his arms over his head. He ignored the sound his spine made and Bruce definitely heard in favour of swivelling around and making a face. “You realize we already ran like an hour today? You remember that, right? Fancy parkour moves over the rooftops, running after that thief that definitely wasn’t Selina and you two totally didn’t end up doing the do while I got the Batmobile.”

Bruce snorted, not missing a step. “’Doing the do’, Tim?”

He hummed. “Am I allowed to say ‘sex’, yet?”

This time, Bruce did falter, getting off the tread mill with a pitiful smile. “Please don’t.”

Happy with his small victory, Tim stood, making his way over. They both had cooled off after coming home and he had let Bruce do his thing while hitting the showers, and although he was tired, Tim knew he still wouldn’t be able to sleep. The sun was already peaking past the horizon and Tim just felt... restless.

Bruce was watching him, wiping his face with a towel and giving Tim this fond look. The one that made him want to turn around, want to know who Bruce was seeing. But he didn’t. He never did, whether out of fear of what there was - or wasn’t. “Hey, I was thinking...”

And then Bruce smiled. “I thought I smelled something burning.”

Tim couldn’t help but smile in return. Shoving his father a little, he kept on talking. “I’m not tired and you’re just pumped up again with all that running you’ve done, so maybe you’d have some time.”

“To bond?”

Biting his lip against the heat in his cheeks, Tim rolled his eyes. “I was thinking more along the lines of... rekindling? - It’s important to know your partner,” he added at once when Bruce just started to chuckle low in his chest, reaching out to ruffle Tim’s hair.

They walked the few steps towards the bench where Bruce kept his sweater and some water. “So, today,” he started, sitting down. “Was pretty good.”

“Pretty disgusting if you ask me.” Tim grabbed the bottle and handed it over. “I don’t really fancy following some schmuck down the sewers. I don’t like the sewers period.”

Bruce hummed. Neither of them needed to mention how awkward, how _artificial_ this felt.

“Dammit,” Tim shook his head. “We’re really bad at this.”

Pulling the sweater over his head, Bruce remained silent, but that had never stopped Tim from talking. Not when this still would have felt normal, and not now either. “Just as bad as getting surprised by a rat. And scream loud enough so the guy hears us.” Tim leaned forward, wringing his hands between his knees. “Sorry for that. Again.”

There was a moment he thought Bruce would say something. Would reply, but then again they had already talked about this during debrief. Bruce expected him to move on. To learn from his mistake and do better next time. No hard feelings, no one had been hurt. This time.

It was laughable, really. Pitiful even. This was the goddamn Batman and he had a Robin. A son even, one he should spent time with instead of indulging the whims of his former partner.

“You wanna know how many times a day I disgust myself?”

Bruce looked taken aback, his voice a lot softer than Tim was familiar with. Not the deep growl of the Bat but an unsure, low plea. “Tim...”

“No, really, it’s like this thing, like a scab, you know? The one you just can’t stop prodding at?” He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but hurt Bruce. Hurting the man who did so much for him with his selfish need to _just say it_. “I feel like screaming for no good reason and I wanna blame someone for all this, but I can’t because it’d be unfair to them and... I should stop, don’t I?”

“Tim, I’m so sorry...”

“Yeah,” he laughed a little sheepish. “I should definitely stop. That really wasn’t what you wanted to hear, right? Sorry, I guess.”

“Don’t.” Bruce put the bottle down and sat up straight, making sure Tim was looking at him. Was hearing _and_ listening. “Don’t ever apologize for how you feel. Don’t apologize for existing.”

“I-- Sorry?” Tim cringed a little at the word. He shrugged because, really, what could he say to that? It didn’t change a thing, didn’t change how he felt or that he felt like apologizing or that he regretted saying anything - and not because Bruce now _knew_. Bruce always knew, but now he’d made him sad and this was not his job. From the very beginning, Tim’s job had been to make sure Batman was okay. Not to make him sad.

He had selfishly wanted to have some of his father’s time and he had been given it. Tim being Tim, though, all he could do with a precious thing that was given to him, was ruining it. As usual.

“No, Tim, please. Talk to me,” Bruce pleaded. He actually pleaded and this was the complete opposite Tim had aimed for when he’d started the conversation. He had been bored, had just wanted to enjoy some time with his Dad.

“I-- Look, I know you’re meaning well and all, but I honestly wish I just hadn’t said that? It’s not - It’s not anything you can do, Bruce, and there’s really nothing you can just say and make me happy and I didn’t even want this to turn depressive?” Tim shook his head, an uneasy feeling burrowed in his stomach. “I’m sorry, can we just... not talk about this? Talk about something else. Please.”

Bruce pulled himself together, obviously working hard against his every instinct to reach out, to care for his son. He nodded. And then, they both fell silent, waiting, trying hard to push the topic back down again and have a lighthearted chat.

It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t work. Tim huffed, refusing to meet Bruce’s eye. “I think it’s time for bed anyway. We had a long day and I’m tired and all.”

“Okay,” Bruce breathed.

“Uh-huh. So, good night I guess?” A sardonic smile tugged on Tim’s lips. He cut everything short that could come now, just not knowing how to stop, how to not talk about this and make Bruce feel even more helpless. “Or rather good morning, right?”

And it didn’t felt like he was fleeing from the cave. Only it did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you have time <3


	6. Making Christmas bearable [Jason/Tim]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** Tim Drake/Jason Todd  
>  **Summary:** While Jason dreaded Christmas dinner, Tim's there to make everything bearable.

There was no way in hell Jason could ever look Bruce in the face ever again.

Christmas was bad enough, Christmas with the family at the manor was worse and Jason would have given anything to be anywhere but here today. The last years, he had successfully avoided the place, had only spoken to Bruce a few, short words. He was getting along with the Bats in general now. The Red Hood was getting along with them and was working even with Batman on the occasion. It was okay. Better by a lot and by the day, and it wasn’t like this was his first time back at the manor. But it was Christmas. A time for family.

Tim looked up at him with more amusement than concern in his eyes. He had his head in Jason’s lap and his legs propped on the armrest of the couch and that content smile on his face that turned Jason’s brain into goo. How the kid could act so casual, was anyone’s guess. Sure, the brat was more reckless than Jason was comfortable with, but that was also what had kept him at Jason’s side, so he couldn’t really want Tim to change that part of himself without kicking his own ass.

There was still no way Bruce wouldn’t kill him, no killing-rule or not.

“I’m thinking about moving to Nuremberg. Or Wrocław, I don’t care.”

“If I have to put up with this, so do you. That’s what this means,” Tim said, wiggling his fingers so he could see the ring.

Taking his fiancé’s hand, Jason brushed a quick kiss on the silver band.

It had taken him long enough to gather up the courage to go to Bruce and ask for - Well, he hadn’t really been asking. Jason knew he didn’t deserve Tim without Daddy telling him. Didn’t mean Jason wouldn’t just take what he wanted though, so when everything was said and done, he had gone to the manor, entering through the kitchen as usual and not minding Alfred holding him up for a chat.

He had been wearing that stupid ring around his neck for weeks, and still Tim had found a way to ruin his proposal and Bruce had been proud and happy as a clam at high tide even though he really had nothing to do with them. All in all, the whole thing had been a trainwreck from the start, but in the end, it still got Jason what he’d wanted; Tim’s hand in his and the stupid obligations that came with it.

“I think I need a smoke.”

“I think you need to wrap the presents.”

Jason rolled his eyes, leaning over his fiancé to grab a lollipop from the table. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

Tim shrugged, his shoulders brushing against Jason’s thigh. “Cass looked happy and I generally trust Steph.”

“To do what? You trust her to do what, birdbrain? To get the hatchling drunk before Christmas dinner?”

Tim kept smiling almost serenely at him, happy and indulgent like a sated cat. “Damian’s had worse.” He reached up to rub his knuckles along Jason’s jaw. “I’ve memorized all the usual toxins our rouges use. Damian’s had worse than a little eggnog. Also, you brought the glühwein.”

Sucking his candy defiantly, Jason only huffed in return. Bruce would so kill him and he didn’t even have a backup plan in case he needed to leave the country. Stupid Tim and his stupid way to make his world a little less angry and wrong. A little less loud. Trusting Tim was bad for his health and so was the cherry-flavoured treat in his mouth. Didn't mean he would give up either.

“You’ve rigged the cameras didn’t you?” Tim bit his lip, the smile never leaving his face. “You’re totally planned for this,” Jason stated, catching the hand still caressing his face. “You probably mentioned to Steph how the kid was so snobbish about wine and all that stuff and how he shouldn’t even really know how alcohol tastes. Or something.” He pushed the candy against the roof of his mouth, sucking on it and letting himself fall back against the couch.

Tim entangled their fingers, their rings clinking together and for the moment, Jason could forget the laughter downstairs. Soon, Bruce would come and kill him for not stopping the evil mastermind he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But not now. Now there was just Tim, laying in his lap and his hand in Jason’s. Just Tim and his way of making everything feel right; making Jason trust him like that. Like he had a plan and knew what he was doing and everything was going to be okay. Like maybe he could deal with Christmas after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you have time <3


	7. Of being happy [Jason & Tim]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** None  
>  **Summary:** Tiny Tim’s sitting at the tiny white table in the garden, watching the colourful balloons and the setting sun. Today is his birthday so he should be happy, right?

He would get a wizard. Nelly Sheldon had gotten one for her birthday last year and after a few months of asking, Tim’s mom had promised to get him one, too, if he stopped to mention it. So yeah, he would definitely get a wizard today, even if it was getting late already.

Tim shoved his hands under his thighs. It was unsightly to fumble about nervously, so he wouldn’t do it. He would compose himself and keep sitting at the tiny white table in the garden, watching the colourful balloons and the setting sun. 

Through the open door on the veranda he could hear the adults talk and chink glasses and enjoy themselves. As it was a warm day, Tim didn’t mind sitting outside while waiting for his friends. He had also taken care of the invitations himself since his last nanny hadn’t known about his birthday last year and had forgotten it all. She had made up for her mistake the very next day, though, by bringing him cake and wrapping him in the scratchy blanket in the living room to watch musicals with him the whole night. 

But this time, Tim had made sure his friends would get their invitations. 

He had written them on the old typewriter in the attic, had put them in the heavy manila envelopes his dad used every time his letters were important, and had placed them in the tray of his father’s desk that read out. Figuring that was the place mail was supposed to go hadn’t been hard. One of his nannies had been fired after Tim had opened letters from that tray, trying to help his dad sort the important stuff as soon as he had been able to read.

So his friends from boarding school had gotten their invitations. Tim was sure. Yet, no one came to Tim’s party. 

Now that’s just rude, a voice in his head, that sounded suspiciously like his mom, said. Lots of people came. Important people even, like the Hollands and the Martensens who would take Dad to their monthly golf session with the DA next Friday.

Biting his lip, Tim tried to keep the scream inside that wanted so desperately to come out since lunch. There was no wizard and there were no other children, and he was still supposed to be grateful since lots of people came. They came and shook his hand even, congratulated him and only wanted to make him happy - some even brought little presents and Tim hated himself even more because they were nice and their presents were pretty cool and he still wasn’t satisfied. 

He was being greedy, he knew. Not being happy with what he got and if mom saw just how little he appreciated everyone’s efforts, she would just be disappointed. Tim sniffed. He needed to put on a brave face, a happy face. The face of a child that knew he got more than he deserved and was suitably content with that. Not the unruly child that wanted to throw a tantrum because he was sitting outside alone for hours now, without wizards or friends. 

The adults startled Tim with their clapping, and he jumped from his chair to see what that was about. 

His father was talking loudly when Tim peeked inside through the open door, his hands raised in a grand gesture towards the server that entered the room with the cook by her side. They pushed the cake to the table together. Tim’s cake. The one he had specially ordered with his dad. The one he had wanted to share with his friends and dad had promised to help him cut it for them; Tim had looked forward to that and now the adults cheered when the two-layered monstrosity was brought to their table.

The cook was explaining something and the adults were asking questions and complimenting her on the food, but Tim wasn’t listening. Instead, he watched his mother work in tandem with the server to get the dishes out. Tim had wanted paper plates, the one with the Superman logo on them since there was no Blue Beetle merchandise, yet, but they had used the dishes his great-grandmother had left them the whole evening. 

When the cook finally bowed and mom and the server stood next to him, Tim’s dad raised the knife, cutting the cake without him. This wasn’t what he had wanted.

“Timmy,” dad said, having finally noticed him. “Come inside, child. Don’t you want a piece?”

Tears were threatening to spill now and Tim’s fingers clenched in his sleeves, because he was getting so many nice things, but he just didn’t want them. He had never asked for them. 

They were all trying hard to make him have a great time, which only made him feel more conflicted. He wasn’t getting what he had asked for, but he was still getting lots of nice things. 

Things he hadn’t wanted. Things he needed to be grateful for, but he hadn’t wanted them. Not like this. And if he would have run now, he would have just made them all worry and destroyed their happiness. Just because he was selfish. So he gulped down the lump in his throat, nodding a little until he pulled himself together enough to smile. 

Dad laughed. “See,” he said. “I do know what you like. Come here, our birthday boy gets the first slice.”

Tim stumbled over, ignored the cooing sounds the other adults made and took the plate from his mom. 

“There, that’s my son. Isn’t he handsome. And almost an man now, can you believe it.” Mom turned to her friends. “I’m so proud of him, of course. He’s behaving so great and mature. Just like a tiny adult.” 

They laughed at that and Tim sat down on the chair his mom had occupied earlier. She was proud of him and that was great, really, he should feel happy about this, but the cake still tasted like dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you have time <3


	8. Of being happy (again) [Jason & Tim]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** Tim Drake  & Jason Todd  
>  **Summary:** Robin tries to get Tim to understand that he isn’t bad, darn it.

The wizard never came. Surely, his mom hadn’t meant to forget it, but it had been months ago so it really wasn’t that surprising. Understandable, really. Tim shouldn’t feel so betrayed, shouldn’t be so ungrateful. There had been cake and guests and everyone had smiled and tired to make his day a happy one.

The wizard still never came and there was no explanation whatsoever what had happened to his invitations. Tim had diligently written and sent them himself, so why had none of his friends come? Why was he sitting on the swing outside alone now instead of being too tired from celebrating with his friends?

Tim fumbled with the strap around his neck, straightening it without jostling the camera from his lap. He’d taken pictures yesterday again, not intending to go out tonight but his parents had left with the other adults to keep celebrating somewhere else. To let him get some sleep, not keep him up with the noise and Tim was thankful for that. They were thoughtful, leaving him alone because they knew he would hate to be the only one to stop celebrating just because he was a minor. So they did him a favour, really. Leaving him alone to sleep.

Only he couldn’t. Sleep was evading him like wet soap on the bathroom floor, so he took his camera outside on the swings from where he could see Wayne manor if he only swung high enough.

“So, hey, the whole house is dark but there’s a kid on the swings. Should I be worried?”

Tim flinched, instinctively fumbling to cradle his camera close to his chest. He hadn’t thought -- Never in his life would he have even hoped for Robin to speak to him. Tim just wasn’t important enough, wasn’t even a blip on his radar, so why; why was Robin here in his garden, stepping around him to sit on the free swing.

Jason, Tim knew. This was Jason and realisation hit him like a freight train. Being able to see Wayne manor from here meant they could see him too. And apparently they did look. Did see him. Knew him, and that. That was too much.

“Are you a tiny burglar,” Robin teased with that smile on his face. The smile Tim had never gotten a picture of, the smile he never dared to even look away from for the few moments it took to get his camera up.

“I’m -- Tim Drake.”

Robin’s smile split to show teeth. He laughed, shaking his head at Tim’s answer. “Of course you are, kiddo.”

They knew him. Oh God, did Jason know...? Tim’s face heated up and he crossed his legs at the ankles, making himself as small as possible on the swing, without being able to even touch the ground.

Robin reached over to grab one of the chains. “What I meant is, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Tim felt the tug that pushed him sideways before another tug swung him back a little. “It’s my birthday.”

Humming, Robin kept the motion going, pushing Tim on the swing back and forth with one hand on the chain. It was awkward, but it worked because it was Robin and Robin had magic and it was kinda nice.

The balloons were shrivelling already, but they were still there. Still attached to the white table where Tim had waited for his friends. And the wizard.

“Mom forgot to call the wizard.”

“And I never got my letter to Hogwarts.”

“What?” Tim looked up. Jason was grinning like... Not like Robin at least. Robin was supposed to smile boyishly, reassuringly, not like some dork who just made a Harry Potter-joke.

“I never got my letter,” he repeated, letting Tim’s legs do the swinging for him. “But I can do this.” And with that, he flourished a coin, letting it bob over his knuckles before throwing it in the air. In one quick motion, he crossed his arms in front of him as it fell, each hand balled to a fist. Jason turned, holding his hands outstretched. “So, where’s the quarter?”

“It’s” Tim bit his lip but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He raised his hand to his cheek, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear that hadn’t bothered him before. He knew this trick. “It’s behind my ear, isn’t it?”

“Aw, man,” Jason laughed but he still reached out to tousle Tim’s hair. “You’re pretty smart for a kid.”

“You’re a kid,” Tim protested.

“I’m Robin. Also, how was the party without the wizard? Tell me you still got some cake left.”

It felt like someone had dropped a bag of bricks on him. Just like that, it was back, the ugly, cold feeling. Tim was being ungrateful. He hadn’t liked his birthday. It hadn’t been fun.

“Hey, hey, kid. You alright?”

Was he? Probably not, Tim thought, hugging his camera close. The camera his dad had bought him. The expensive camera he had gotten along with food and a place to live. His parents were doing everything to provide for him - more even, they gave him stuff. Stuff they thought he’d like. “I’m bad.”

“No you’re not.”

Tim snarled. “You don’t know me. You don’t even know what I’m talking about!”

Jason exhaled, standing and patting his uniform as if he was looking for something. “I don’t need to,” he said, not looking at Tim but the shrivelled balloons, at the white table. “I’m Robin, remember?”

Gritting his teeth, Tim grabbed the chains on his swing. “I’m bad, my parents do everything for me and all I can think of is how I didn’t like my birthday. Didn’t like what I got. I’m so egoistic I can’t even be happy they thought of me, they do so much for me and I--”

“-- That’s a their job!” Jason bellowed. He had turned, his fists balled at his sides and his face a grimace beneath the mask. “That’s their goddammed job as parents, Tim.” 

Too stunned to react, he watched as Jason started to pace. “You’re a kid, they are your parents, giving you presents on your birthday isn’t even anything special, it’s what they’re supposed to do. You’re not bad for not liking the ugly sweater your grandma made you or something. Jesus Christ on a bicycle.”

“I didn’t get a sweater.”

“Good for you. Anyway,” he stopped pacing and walked over, crouching in front of Tim. “You’re not bad.”

His heart hammered in his chest. He didn’t understand what Jason was saying, couldn’t follow his train of thought but still... something resonated within him.

“What happened, Timmy?”

“My friends didn’t show up and dad gave my cake to the adults.”

Jason’s lips tightened on the next words. “What adults?”

“The Hollands and - and the Martensens, I think? They’re nice, they got me presents, too, and they take Dad with them to golf,” he added quickly. They were good people and Tim didn’t want Robin to think he wasn’t grateful someone so important had taken the time to come here on his birthday. 

“Are they your friends?”

“They are my parents’ friends.”

“So not yours,” Jason snarled and Tim didn’t get it. Why was he getting angry? “What was yours today, Tim?”

“I -- The whole party.” The guests had come for _him_ , had given presents to _him_. Even the cake had been for _him_. Just because he didn’t like it didn’t mean it wasn’t for his sake.

“But your friends were invited?”

“I put the letters on dad’s desk.”

“Great, so he didn’t sent them.”

With a sudden urge to stop, to just make him shut up, Tim jumped off the swing, pushing Jason back. “He’s busy! It’s not his fault if -- _if_ \-- he forgot. He didn’t mean to.”

The shove had been enough to unbalance Jason, but not enough to faze him. “You don’t have to defend them. They hurt you, Tim. It’s okay to not like that.”

He blinked. It wasn’t easy to get out the next words, his own body betraying him the moment he did. “I love them! They’re busy and they’re trying and doing everything for me. I have to be grateful for that,” he cried. “It’s my fault. My fault for not telling them what I like, my fault for not being content with what I get. I get so much and - and still.”

“Tim, stop.” Grabbing his hands, Jason looked at him. Even through the white lenses, this close, Tim could see his eyes. “If you’d ask for milk, you wouldn’t be happy if they got you quark, would you?”

“Quark?” Tim’s voice didn’t break when Jason started to rub tiny circles on the back of his hands.

“Some German stuff. Cured cheese. _It’s not relevant, Timmy._ ”

“Sounds unhygienic.” 

Jason smiled. “Bear with me, okay?”

“I... I don’t think I would like that.”

“You would still be grateful, right? Because they still took the time to get you something. Just not what you wanted.” He didn’t wait for Tim’s reply, just kept watching, never letting go of his hands. Even through the gloves, he was still warm. “Which is bullshit, Timmy. If I ask you to get me milk, you’d get me milk, right? There’s no need to be grateful for something you didn’t want. Lots of people need a beating these days, but none of them thank me for it, y’know. Even if I give them what they need, they don’t want it, and they don’t need to thank me for hurting them.”

Tim laughed. “I-I don’t think I can follow.”

“You don’t have to. Not now.” Jason gave his hands a final squeeze. “Just think on that for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

Promise Robin to think of dairy products or beatings or ugly sweaters? He could do that, Tim could definitely do that. He didn’t need to understand everything right away for it to make him feel better. Robin, no, Jason told him he wasn’t bad. Tim couldn’t believe that just yet, but it was something.

“Promise,” he nodded.

“Look, I gotta go. The big guy’s gonna have my gonads for staying out too long and I’m kinda attached to them. You gonna be okay?”

“Oh God, Batman.” Did he know? Oh, darn, he hadn’t thought of Mr Wayne.

“Yeah, Batman. You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Tim smiled when Robin put an hand on his head again. He was given a once-over that made him feel a little shy before Robin huffed and tousled Tim’s hair.

“Stay sharp, kiddo.” Jason laughed and turned to walk away - Not in the direction of the manor, Tim noticed. Of course he wasn’t, because that was a secret and Tim didn’t know that, right? It was still his birthday and _that had been Robin, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you have time <3


	9. Firecrackers [Jason & Damian]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** Jason Todd  & Damian Wayne  
>  **Summary:** Damian’s voice is breaking, but he kind of likes to be a kid.

Jason Todd wouldn’t have been the first to admit he had problems. Jason Todd would have probably been one of the last, hadn’t it been for the twelve year-old sitting on the other side of the table and staring at him over his strawberry milkshake. Right now, all of Jason’s problems condensed into the very important task not to laugh. Again.

“Oh, c’mon,” he managed. “It happens to the best of us.”

Damian opened his mouth but opted for silence at the last moment. The way he was glaring made it obvious that _he wasn’t pouting, Todd. No way_. But he totally was.

“Look, before your daddy swallowed like a buttload of marbles and sandpaper to get that whole growl-thing going, he was singing soprano, too. You know when you can’t decide on a channel and just zap through the programs? Pretty sure he sounded like that when he was your age.” And he would so ask Alfie later for a video. Alfred had all the videos and childhood memories of _every_ kid growing up at Wayne manor and they were all screwed if he ever chose to use them for blackmail.

Damian exhaled softly, raising both hands from under the table to gesture quickly.

“Oh, sign language it is now,” Jason laughed. “Yeah, I can do that, but you’ll still have to start speaking again some day, ya know.” Leaning back in his seat, Jason let his eyes wander. Damian was still gesticulating but he wasn’t going to encourage the use of ASL when he could listen to the kids’ voice break every other sentence.

It was easy finding something interesting to look at. The diner’s patrons were mostly families and Damian had yet to protest when they got him crayons and paper each time they came for lunch. Jason loved it. He loved picking the kid up from school, loved helping with Damian’s homework although the kid seldom needed it.

Sandra, the waitress, looked up and smiled when he raised a hand. The turquoise uniform they made her wear clashed with the tone of red she’d dyed her hair and she’d had to prick a new hole in her belt to make her purse hang as loose as those of the other girls. She was also Damian’s favourite because she never looked at his drawings.

“What can I do for you,” Sandra asked, standing at their table.

“I think the kid wants to tell you something.” Damian glared, shaking his head harshly but that didn’t stop Jason. “Yeah, something about cake.”

“Not about cake then.” The waitress smiled at Damian when he kept shaking his head. After a bit of staring she tilted her head. “It’s okay, dear. No need to be shy.”

“Yeah, no need to be shy, Dami,” Jason gloated. When he was going to pay for this - and he _was_ going to pay for it - he would still think Damian’s face was the most hilarious thing he’d seen this year. He desperately didn’t want to open his mouth, but he didn’t want to be rude to the nice lady that actually let him draw in peace and thus had been promoted from normal ‘waitress’ to ‘the lady from the diner’.

There was a moment, a teeny, tiny moment where he gave in to hope and finally opened his mouth. This was of course the moment Jason had been waiting for, too.

“I think he had a complaint.”

“A _complaint?_ ” Sandra straightened up, one hand at her cheek and a sudden properness in her posture that came with being ready to fight tooth and nails for her job. It sure wasn’t a good job, but she had a family and this would never be one of Gotham’s richer parts of town.

Damian finally broke. “Stop. He’s being ridiculous. There’s nothing to complain about.”

Jason watched the waitress blink, resting his arms on the table. She was looking from one to the other, not quite sure what to make of this.

“It’s cute, isn’t it,” he finally commented. “He’s trying so hard not to talk, yet the moment he does he sounds like Chainsaw tripped on catnip. - That’s my cat by the way.”

“I don’t –”

Sandra’s chuckle stopped Damian. She held her notepad in front of her face, not to openly laugh at him. With a huff, he crossed his arms, turning to face away from both of them. Damian’s ears were bright pink and if it were any other kid, he would’ve thrown a tantrum. As it was, Jason only prepared for being strangled in his sleep.

“I’m sorry, darling.” Sandra leaned over the table to put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not right to laugh at you. Do you want some cake? It’s on me, okay?”

His eyes darted to her, a small pout on his lips. “Coffee?”

“Well, since you’re an adult now, I’ll see what I can do for you.”

The kid’s hand instinctively went to the crayons spread in front of him, and Jason got that. Those were given to children. Children were allowed to draw at diners and Jason had never even been asked if he wanted paper or a pencil or anything like that because _he was an adult_. Damian was treated like an adult almost everywhere he went, too, but here he got shitty crayons and thin paper and they let him draw while stuffing his face with fast food. Like a child.

“Yeah, how about you get me the coffee. I’m pretty sure he wants that chocolate cake you had last time? The one with sprinkles and candy and stuff.”

The waitress smiled softly. “That’s our birthday cake.”

“What a coincidence, it’s my birthday. Get us the cake, Sandra,” Jason grinned. He might not have been the first to admit he had problems, but he would always be the first to call Damian his brother. He wouldn’t make him choose. So, when Sandra had left and Damian glanced at him warily, he only smiled. “Don’t worry, you can have both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you have time <3


	10. A rose by any other name [Tim/Kon]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** Tim Drake/Kon-el  
>  **Summary:** Kon isn’t sure whether this counts as a date and Tim needs to talk to him. Nothing good ever starts with the words ‘We need to talk’, though, does it?

It wasn’t the first time Kon didn’t know whether this counted as a date. He’d had a lot of dates, mostly with girls and none of them with Tim. Which was kind of the problem; Tim was his best friend and when he’d asked Kon to stay up with him, he hadn’t even thought about it for a second, the answer had just come naturally. 

Of course he would stay up and watch crappy cartoons with him, no questions asked. And no questions needed - normally. Normally, Kon would have never thought of this as a date. Tim just had these nights; hours he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t be awake without hurting either. When Tim had first told him, Kon had been speechless. What could he possible say to his best friend who had nightmares with open eyes and just knocked himself out with a bunch of pills if he was alone? It had taken Kon days to reply and Tim had only smiled the whole time. The stupid smile that said ‘Don’t worry’ and ‘I’m fine’, and made Kon physically sick. 

So this evening, like the few before, Tim had asked for company. Only, unlike those prior nights, he was actually talking to Kon, commenting on the cartoons and inquiring about the Kents and Krypto and Smallville, and Kon really didn’t know what to make of this.

Tim was facing him, one leg pulled up between them and his hands gesturing wildly. “He makes the worst jokes, I swear. Bruce made this stupid pun, okay? And the Riddler just stared. He was completely stupefied so Bruce punched him in the face. He was totally done with everyone after that.”

Tim was smiling. Which was a miracle in itself, so yeah, Kon’s stomach was doing stupid things. “I will never understand how you can talk so casual about the freaking Batman.”

Tim shrugged. “He’s my partner. He might be stubborn but he’s also shrunk his five hundred dollar blazer in the wash and can ruin a sandwich. A sandwich, Kon. I still don’t know how he manages that.”

 _‘You’re amazing,’_ Kon wanted to say.

 _‘You’ve been through so much and you’re still holding up,’_ he wanted to say. 

_‘I wouldn’t be able to do that. Without you… I can’t even imagine it.’_

Yet he didn’t say anything until Tim shook his head slightly, a crooked grin on his lips. “So, hey, a propos food, you hungry?”

“Yeah, sure.” He wasn’t actually, but Tim could always use the nutrition and he definitely ate more in company. 

The way Tim was standing from the couch didn’t even hint at the abuse his body had taken earlier and it pained Kon a little that his best friend felt the need to hide his sprained ankle. Not to mention the bruises he’d gotten when thrown into a wall. Tim was hurt a lot and, being their leader, was accustomed to not showing any weakness - especially since he just wasn’t as strong as them by default. But he had relaxed around them, _before_. Before Kon and Bart had gotten themselves killed. Now the walls were back up and Kon felt like an ass for still feeling the way about his best friend like he’d done then.

Their relationship had grown; no one knew him as good as Tim, not even Cassie. He had tried to get this level of intimacy with her, but their relationship was something else entirely. Cassie was nothing like Tim. Sure, they were both great leaders, both gorgeous and generous and more than anything, Cassie was Cassie. Loving her was a given, a serious relationship on the other hand…

And then there was Tim. Somehow, thinking about a relationship with Tim… didn’t change anything. Kon stretched his arms along the back of the couch, letting his head fall back and groaned. Who was he kidding, the one thing that would hopefully change was the dreams. The ones that had him awake at four in the morning, thinking about the way Tim moved, the way he showed off his flexibility. For Kon - at least in those dreams. Fantasies.

“Wow, you sure you don’t want to hit the sack?” Tim laughed, putting a plate of pizza on the table. He sat down, leaning back with a slice. For a moment, Kon was unable to move; too conscious of the proximity, of Tim’s body heat. If he only moved his arm a few inches, he could hug him, pull him close, and it wouldn’t even feel strange, would it? Tim would allow that if it was him.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Your funeral. If you need coffee tomorrow, you can have some of mine. Also, if you don’t eat the pizza, don’t think I’ll leave some for you.”

Kon laughed. Tim was so happy today, so happy Kon felt all the more confused with their set-up. This wasn’t movie night, they just stayed awake without… well, the nightmares that justified this kind of distraction usually. “Tell me why,” Kon finally said, leaning closer to Tim. His arm was still on the back of the couch, but it didn’t feel that way. 

“Why what?” 

“Why you’re awake. You’re not having trouble sleeping, do you?”

Tim ducked his head as if trying to hide between his shoulders. “It’s, um.” Kon watched the smile on his face change, just a little, but his heart reacted instantly. Tim wasn’t lying, he was just… being shy. “Sorry. To keep you awake, I guess. – It’s not bad, is it? You’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Rob. What’s going on?”

This time, Tim relaxed back into his side, actually leaning against him. Tim wasn’t warm, not to Kon, but he was comfortable, and happy and –

– “We need to talk.”

Kon’s stomach sunk. Never in his whole life had anything good started with the words ‘We need to talk’.

“Oh man,” he barked out a laugh. “I didn’t eat your froyo again, did I?”

“I hope not, but no. It’s about…” The smile vanished from his face, and Kon lost his warmth when Tim turned to face him. “It’s about a guy, okay?”

Dumbfounded as he was, all Kon could do was blink like he had been staring at the sun for too long. “You’re gay.” 

Tim cringed. “Does it matter what I am?”

“You’re not gay? Wait, there’s Spoiler, so–”

“– Can we just – God.” Throwing his arms up in exasperation, Tim laid back on the couch. He let his hands fall on his face, muffling his next words. “There’s this guy I like and I wanted you to know and that’s just it, can we please never talk about it ever again.”

Uneasily, Kon chewed the inside of his cheek. Of course he had known. Everyone had known about Tim’s stupid hero worship and apparently… “It’s Dick, isn’t it?”

Tim made a gagging sound. “I’ve been in love with Robin until I was fourteen, but not Dick, okay? Dick’s my brother.”

“Dude, _you_ were Robin when you were fourteen.”

Sitting up a little, Tim peeked through his fingers. “I’m great at compartmentalizing. Or so I’ve been told.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re weird?” Kon couldn’t really hold the laughter back. Tim was such a strange mix of self-conscious and bold that he had no problem admitting to loving a concept, but talking about an actual person was hard.

“Oh, stop laughing.” Shoving both his feet against Kon’s thigh, Tim chuckled himself. “I’m gonna kick your ass so hard Superman feels it.”

“Clone-jokes now, Rob. Really.”

Tim propped his legs on Kon’s lap, crossing his arms and still smiling. “Well, I’m allowed. You’re my clone boy.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“I love you.”

And that’s when the world just stopped.

Tim didn’t move, and neither did Kon - Although he was tempted to use the superspeed his Kryptonian DNA gave him to run far, far away. Never ever should Tim have heard those words, not from Kon. Not this way. Tim deserved them, sure. Tim deserved to be loved more than anyone else, but this? Those three words? - Was it too late to laugh them off? 

There was a shift in Tim’s mood, something almost indiscernible, but it was there. His voice didn’t sound blank, just void of anything that would give his thoughts away. “As a friend?”

“I – sure.” Kon couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t face his best friend now that he had said those words. He lost Tim’s warmth a second time when he pulled his legs back and under him.

“But not just as a friend,” Tim stated and kneeled on the couch, towering over Kon a little. 

It was all he could do not to run away. His palms were clammy and his heart beat a harsh tune against his rips. This wasn’t happening. Not now.

He looked at Tim out of the corner of his eye and cleared his throat. His best friend was waiting, sitting on his knees and waiting with that strange look in his eyes, the one that greedily took everything you allowed to slip but didn’t give anything away. 

“I… Is that a problem?”

“Yeah, dunno,” Tim breathed out, bracing himself on Kon’s shoulder as he leaned forward. “That guy I like? It just so happens that he’s a massive dork who likes me back. That a problem?”

With Tim this close, Kon was acutely aware of all the places they were touching, and Tim still kept moving, leaning forward more and more, letting Kon support his weight.

“He also can’t take a hint.”

“Oh,” Kon said as realization hit him.

“Yes, ‘oh’,” Tim chuckled, his breath warm against Kon’s lips. “This okay?”

And Kon. Well, he wasn’t _not_ okay with Tim leaning on him with his arm around Kon’s shoulder and their faces not even an inch from each other. 

Tim… Tim liked him. Tim just. He hadn’t referred to anyone but Kon, and all those times he thought they’d had those almost dates? Had Tim regretted them not being real, too?

Kon’s body moved instinctively, pulling his friend close. Normally, he would have revelled in the startled sound he got, but not today; he didn’t have time to think about that, the noise going directly to something that just wasn’t his brain. Something else, something a whole lot closer to the heat in his chest and the beat against his rips and he didn’t care. He had Tim in his arms and his tongue in his mouth, his soft neck warming rapidly under his touch, and he was pretty sure neither of them would have bad dreams when they would fall asleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you have time <3


	11. Dear Mr. Todd [Jason, Bruce & Alfred]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relationships:** Batfam, Jason, Bruce and Alfred  
>  **Summary:** It’s Jason's twelfth birthday and he was really hoping he would get a letter this year. One that would tell him there was a place he belonged to.

Jason raced down the stairs, his bare feet slapping against the tiles as he skidded into the kitchen. “Alfred,” he called, already making his way to the table. “Did you get the mail?” 

As there was no need for an answer, the boy flipped through the letters quickly, giving each of them a glance. When none bore his name, he slumped into a chair and sighed.

“Are you expecting something, Master Jason?” 

“It’s nothing,” he lied, wringing his hand in the bright red shirt he had saved his allowance for almost two months ago. Alfred didn’t need the banner under the logo to recognize the golden lion in the crest on it. In fact, not too long ago, he had had to borrow his own Harry Potter collection to Master Bruce since Jason’s obsession had become apparent. 

To his credit, Master Bruce read the whole series, no matter how much he snarled at the magic and the lonely children in the books. One night, when his head was spinning from painkillers, it had even been bad enough Alfred had found him looking up a Dursley family to pay them a visit.

Alfred regarded the boy at the table, placing the mug with hot chocolate in front of him. Jason looked tiny like this, his hands between his legs, his shoulders slumped and his head lying on his chest. “Dear boy,” Alfred started with a smile. “If you would tell me what you are looking for, maybe I could be of assistance.”

He looked up with a crooked smile, waving him off. “It’s okay. I should’ve known. I mean, I didn’t get one last year when I should’ve but it could’ve just been a little too late for them, right? So I thought maybe this year. But now I’m twelve and it’s fine, really.”

“Right,” Alfred sighed. “And you should be happy this very day, Master Jason. Let me be the first to congratulate you on completing your twelfth year on this earth.”

“Just say ‘happy birthday’, Alfie,” Jason laughed. “And call me ‘Jay’ for pete’s sake.”

Smiling, he noted the rise in Jason’s posture, the happiness that seeped back into the boy. “Happy birthday, Jay.”

“He buddy,” Bruce entered the kitchen, his own smile bright and open when Jason stood and almost jumped into his arms. “How’s our birthday boy doing?”

“Fine,” Jason sighed into his father’s chest. “Just fine. Happy I’m here.”

They exchanged a look over the boy’s shoulder, before Alfred picked up the mail, going through it himself. There was nothing wrong with it. Maybe Jason had expected someone to sent him a card? But as far as they knew, Jason had had nobody before they took him in, his mother having died and his father… It was unlikely he expected anything. 

When they had settled down in the breakfast nook, Jason leant over the table to grab his mug, grinning at the amount of marshmallows in it. “Can I wear my robe when we go out today?”

Chuckling, Bruce laid an arm on the bench behind his son. “Isn’t that a school uniform? You can wear is when we go downstairs, during our lessons,” he conceded.

The boy took a big gulp, wiping the chocolate from his mouth afterwards. Today, Alfred wouldn’t chide him for that. Even though the napkins laid right in front of him. But not today. Today was the child’s twelfth birthday and both Alfred and Bruce knew this was important. Knew the boy’s last birthdays had been very lonely.

Setting his almost empty mug on the table, Jason leaned into Bruce’s chest. “Great,” he said, his eyes twinkling wistfully. “Then I can at least pretend I’m going to Hogwarts.” 

Looking down at the mail in his hands, Alfred realized what the boy had been hoping for. After Bruce and Jason had eaten their breakfast, the boy ran upstairs to dress, hurrying downstairs in a red and black robe not long after. Only when they were safely in the cave, Jason’s insatiable curiosity being fed, Alfred went to his room. 

Sitting at his old secretaire he got out the good, emerald ink, writing a letter in a wonderful cursive he had mastered over years. He dried the ink, pressing carefully with the rocker blotter and finally sealed the letter with a dark red seal. It was no perfect forgery, but Alfred knew enough of the art to get close.

As expected, Alfred found the boy in the cave, sitting in his father’s lap and pointing a pen at the camera footage they were watching. Bruce indulged him with a broad smile, changing the channels every time Jason waved his wand at the screens.

Clearing his throat, Alfred approached them. “Master Jason, it seems you have missed a letter going through the mail earlier.”

When he held out the yellowed envelope, Jason’s eyes went wide. He took the letter with shaking hands, taking in the address written in emerald ink. “ _‘Mr. J. Todd_ ‘,” he read. “ _‘The Batcave under Wayne Manor, 1007 Mountain Drive, Gotham.’_ But how?”

Bruce tightened his arms around the boy a little, putting his chin on Jason’s shoulder. “Maybe you should open it.”

Small, callused hands turned the envelop almost reverently, biting his lip when he broke the seal and pulled out the letter.

“What does it say?” his father inquired, watching his son’s reaction fondly.

“ _‘Dear Mr. Todd’,_ ” Jason breathed, his voice shaking, the corners of his lips fighting against a grin. “ _‘We regret losing such a wonderful pupil as you would be. We understand you have found your place at Mr. Bruce Wayne’s side, thus, we hope to give you our heartfelt blessings instead. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall_.’”

He glanced up at Alfred, his voice sounding wet and tears spilling over his cheeks. “Thank you, Alfred,” Jason sobbed, his face lit with a smile. “Thank you.” With his free hand, the boy grabbed at Bruce’s arm, pulling it tighter around him and letting his head fall onto his chest. “Thank you.” 

Alfred’s heart hurt, knowing the boy meant more than just the letter. Today, it was fine to be happy, fine to let his walls down and to enjoy not being alone anymore. Being around people who loved him and cared for him. Who were his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we all know who I’m blaming when I get those sudden urges to write tiny Jason being a tiny nerd and loving Harry Potter. (Hint: it’s [Alex](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexicon/profile))  
> Tell me what you think? Drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk and/or just make me happy. <3  
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Don’t you dare throw that snowba- [Jason/Tim]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [Alex](https://lexiconallie.tumblr.com) on tumblr.  
>  **Prompt:** “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”  
>  **Relationship:** JayTim

Clutching his chest, Jason can feel his heart beat against his ribs. This was supposed to be a quiet, nice patrol, just a quick run around the block and then…

He listens to Tim over the comm. His voice is hushed and low, telling the scientists to evacuate through the hole he had made to get inside the lab. To safe Jason. 

Without his helmet, Jason can see his breath condense in the cold air, can hear Freeze’s boots crunch on the thin sheet of ice. He’s coming closer already and Jason will have to change covers any minute now. It’s hard to move though. Rationally, he knows it’s the cold, knows the signs and knows what it means that he stopped shivering. 

It takes effort to stretch his legs. Jason stumbles forward, down the steps from the small platform with the lab’s computers. His teeth have stopped clattering ten minutes ago. Tim’s talking in his ear, silently and familiar and warm. He has come for him. Has come for Jason. 

The knob‘s not even cold, but the door is frozen shut, like any other exit in this godforsaken place. Breaking it open would make too much noise and with Jason’s condition, he’s not sure he could take Freeze if he found him right now. Pushing himself off the icy surface, Jason manages a few steps before his ankle gives under him. He’s been in this cold for too long. 

Gritting his teeth, he drags himself under the next table, shoving his numb hands under his arms and pulling his legs up close. It hurts to bend them, but he deals somehow. He can’t feel his toes. 

Checking his watch, Jason tries to piece this night together, staring at the luminescent numbers numbly. It’s 11:13 PM. He can’t remember when the call came, can’t remember when Freeze used his gun to close the doors for good. When did he hear Tim’s voice last? What time is it again? Jason doesn’t remember. 

Shoving his hand under his arm, Jason lets out his anger in a small huff. His head drops back and he hits the desk he’s under. Shuffling closer to the hard surface, he keeps his mind on the situation at hand. They’re fighting Mr Freeze, though he can’t remember why. It’s too cold and he wants to just give in and fall asleep. It’s hard to remember why that’s a bad idea. He remembers the ring though. The one he has been carrying around his neck for months now. The ring and Tim. Tim is talking. “We’re done. Get out of here.” And after a moment, “Do you copy?”

Can’t reply, Jason wants to say, but his lips won’t move.

“Hood, do you copy?” Tim’s voice is a little shrill, a little hysteric. Jason feels like laughing. 

With numb fingers, he fumbles a mirror from his belt. Holding it close to the floor, so he can see Freeze move around the lab through the tiny gap between desk and floor.

Freeze is close, but his eyes dart around aimlessly. He knows Jason is there, and by the irritated snarl on his lips, he also knows about the escaped scientists. He doesn’t know where either of them are, but he’s close to Jason. If he weren’t so close, Jason would have tried to make some noise, get Freeze’s attention on him rather than Tim and the scientists. 

He can’t force a sound from his throat anyway. Not even to answer Tim. His lungs feel frozen, too, like any breath could shatter them. They still work evenly while his heart is racing. He knows it’s hypothermia. He’s pretty deep already. He wouldn’t be able to move if Freeze found him. It’s only a matter of time though.

Changing the mirror’s angle, Jason looks for Tim. With a little bit of shuffling, he might be able to see the hole where Tim had brought the scientists through. He needs to know Tim’s safe. 

There he is, peeking around a corner, a frown on his face, looking almost like he’s pouting. Jason’s heart swells seeing Tim scowl at Freeze like he had just ruined their evening. He loves him. Jason loves Tim and that’s a fact. He doesn’t have to remember why. Doesn’t have to care for anything but the loud beating of his heart and the warmth of the small metal band against his chest. For a moment, Jason nods off, his stiff limbs losing grip of the mirror he held, and the tiny sound’s enough for Freeze to stop mid-step.

Okay. Whatever. He’s no longer cold, he’s not afraid of subzero temperatures and a little snow and ice. Elsa can let it go all she wants. 

Jason feels like laughing, his fingers fumbling with the holster at his thigh. He isn’t sure the gun will still work after being in the cold for so long, but it’s better when he snaps the button open with one hand, picking up the mirror with the other. He needs to see Tim.

The footsteps come to his table now with purpose, the snow crunching under Freeze’s boots. Tim’s moving, following Freeze a little hunched over, scrapping up a bit of snow as he goes. The way he’s moving and where he’ll be in another second… Jason gulps, ignoring the pain he feels at the movement. Tim’s wide open and won’t have anything to hide behind once he got Freeze’s attention. He’s here to safe Jason. To make sure his frozen ass gets home and Tim doesn’t even know about the dinner Jason has planned for them later. He just wants Freeze to not find Jason so he does this dumb little Tim-thing of prioritizing Jason’s safety over his own. Jason hates that about him. He wants to tell him to stop and get out, but his lungs are solid ice by now. Tim gets ready to throw, an arm winding up behind his head like a professional baseball player. Tim likes baseball. Not too long ago, he had dragged Jason with him to a game and Jason can’t remember what happened on the field, but he remembers each of Tim’s tiny little smiles, and the big ones when his team scored.

Jason’s voice sounds unfamiliar, too loud and too wrong even to his own ears. “Don’t you dare throw that snowba–” but Tim’s faster. He always is. “Goddammit!” 

The moment the snowball thwacks against Freeze’s helmet, Jason lets go of the mirror, of Tim. He can’t see Tim when he dives out from under the desk, pulling his gun as he skids on the icy floor to face Freeze. One of them is going to die and it sure as hell won’t be Tim. 

The ring is still warm against his chest. The only warmth he feels in that moment, the only thing he feels. It’s Tim, TimTimTimTim inside his head. He has prepared everything at home. Has food in the fridge for after patrol. Jason was going to propose tonight and now his blood is melting the snow around his boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, maybe I like writing angsty stuff, and prompts make me very happy <3  
> Feel free to tell me what you think, here or on [tumblr](https://allumetterouge.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


	13. Wait a minute. Are you jealous? [Jason/Tim]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [Amber](https://youareunbearable.tumblr.com) on tumblr.  
>  **Prompt:** “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”  
>  **Relationship:** JayTim

What had been meant to be nothing but a quick stop had now become almost three hours and Jason was sick of the tower. He couldn’t care less for all those preppy wonder kids and super gals, he really couldn’t. Slouching down on the couch, he gave that mouthy speedster the stink eye. “Keep walking.”

“Oh man, I don’t know what Tim sees in you.”

And yeah, sometimes, Jason didn’t either, but Kid Flash didn’t need to know that. The brat spurned him, walking over to where the other Titans had gathered in the open kitchen, surrounding Tim. 

Not two minutes in and they had already swooped him away from Jason. Ten minutes later, Tim had stopped looking over his shoulder. After an hour, Jason had finally resigned and had flopped down in one of those obnoxious sofas in front of their giant TV. Eventually, almost three hours since Tim said he would just ‘pop in and get some stuff’, Jason was close to leaving on his own. Two hours and forty-five minutes, not that he was counting. 

“Don’t.”

Right. Also twenty minutes since Ravager sat down on the adjoining sofa, keeping an eye on him. By now, he was bored enough to indulge her, “’Don’t’ what?”

“Don’t even think of killing them.”

“Girl, the only thing I’m killing today’s time.” _And maybe myself,_ he thought when he heard that horrendous sound again. Tim might find it charming, the way his best friend snorted and grunted when others just laughed, but Jason hated the noise almost more than he thought possible. 

Putting her dagger down, Ravager hummed, her eye still on him. She wasn’t bad looking, was actually pretty interesting if what Damian told him held even an ounce of truth. “Okay,” he sighed, finally shrugging his jacket off. “What do you kids do when you’re not saving the world from giant rubber ducks?”

The smirk on her lips was sharp enough to cut, making Jason understand exactly what the little brat saw in her. “Obviously, we sit around and talk. Or cook,” she said, nodding towards the kitchen. 

Risking a glance, Jason watched the way Tim moved between his friends. How he was smiling, so happy and eager, and while he was usually too lazy to get fancy in the kitchen, he was moving between them with ease. Donna’s replacement was smiling, handing him the lettuce head she had cleaned and all Tim did was laugh at whatever stupid story the clone told them. 

Jason turned back, ignoring the hateful, green bug that skittered between his ribs. “Interesting. That happen often?”

“Too often for my taste.”

Superboy laughed again, his voice carrying over easily. Without thinking, Jason snarled. “An elephant’s more silent.” When Ravager just chuckled, he went on. “Seriously, I mean, he’s your best decoy, isn’t he? Being loud as shit, I’m sure he’s getting all the attention.”

The Titans were important to Tim, and the clone was the most important of them all. Jason hadn’t been there when everyone had died around the kid, hadn’t been in the right mind to help, but from what Tim had told him, it was the clone who had believed in him. The clone and no one else. He should be grateful, should be happy Tim had found someone this important, but all he could feel was that little, green bug nestle inside his sternum. 

“Yeah, he’s not subtle, but he does have a nice face,” Ravager said, leaning her arms on her knees. 

She wasn’t wrong either and Jason knew that before coming here, but seeing him stand there, putting his arm around Tim and getting his hand slapped as he nicked some of the vegetables Tim was cutting… “Yeah, well, he got that from Superman,” Jason found himself hissing, the green bug now brushing its antennae against his heart. “It’s the personality he must’ve gotten from someone else.”

Superboy jerked, squeezing Tim a little before looking up and staring at Jason. There was a moment Jason itched for his guns, wanted so bad to make that boy hurt just for the concerned look Tim had for him. 

When Ravager kept silent, he took his chance, his voice like acid and his eyes on the clone. Tim wouldn’t be able to hear, but Superboy would understand his words perfectly. “And we all know there was only one other donor besides the big guy,” he said, watching with glee as Superboy’s eyes went wide.

“You come over here and say that to my face!”

Jumping up, Jason just grinned. “I just did.”

Tim stopped his friend from going after him in a heartbeat, with just a hand on his arm. “What’s going on?” 

Jason felt the bug bite at his heart at the softness in his eyes. He was worried about his friend when Jason wanted him to move his hand, to get away from that guy.

“Your boyfriend,” Superboy spat. “That’s what’s going on.”

Wonder Girl gave him no time to retort, slapping her hands against the counter firmly. “Dammit, guys, really? I know it’s hard to have him here, but at least try not to play along when he provokes you, Kon.”

“What the fuck,” Jason said, clenching his fists tightly. “I didn’t do anything.” Yeah, sure they didn’t want him here, big deal, but Tim did, right? Tim wanted him here and Jason could care less for anything else. 

“Yeah, right,” Superboy shook Tim’s hand off and walked around the counter, each step deliberate and meant to let Jason feel his power.

No way could he ever see what Tim liked about that arrogant asshole. Being born with superpowers just meant he could be hurt in a different way than normal people. And Jason knew at least three of those different ways right off the bat. “What, I’m just telling the truth.”

With a grim expression, Tim jumped over the counter, putting himself between them. “Okay, stop,” he laid a hand on the stupid symbol on the clone’s chest.  
“He’s the one being unreasonable,” Jason pointed out, his anger only rising when Tim glared over his shoulder. 

“You,” Tim said, pushing against the clone’s chest. “Need to cool off, and you,” he turned, walking over to grab Jason’s hand. “You need to cool off somewhere else.”

Washing and cutting vegetables made Tim’s hand feel small and cold in his on their way to his room. When he let go and closed the door behind them, water still clung to Jason’s skin. “Okay,” he finally said, his voice firm but curious. “What was all that about?”

And Jason… he couldn’t really tell him, could he? The bug tickled his ribs bearing its horrid grin. _They think I’m a mistake and they’re not wrong,_ he couldn’t say. _You could do so much better than me, and sometimes I think you even know that,_ he couldn’t say. Jason forced his breath out of his lungs. “Nothing,” he said instead.

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Tim frowned at him. “Didn’t seem like nothing to me.”

“It was nothing.”

“Jason,” he warned. 

It was a sure sign he had fucked up, but that’s what Jason did best. Still, this thing he had with Tim, this relationship… he didn’t want to fuck that one up. Not that one. Tim was too important. “Honestly, it’s fine, I’m done. Won’t happen again.”

Rolling his eyes, Tim just sighed, his shoulders sagging. It had been a long trip and a tiring case, and Jason wanted nothing more than to take it all back. If he had just let Tim have this, let him be happy with his friends– but no, Jason had to destroy that, too. Because he didn’t want Tim to realize how much happier the Titans made him.

“Whatever,” Tim turned his back to him. “Stay here ‘til you feel like acting reasonable again.”

Jason’s body moved before he had time to think, stopping Tim with a hand on his wrist and burying his face against Tim’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” _You deserve better._

“Apologize to Kon,” Tim’s muscles were tense, his irritation almost palpable.

“No, not that.”

“Then what?”

_For taking what I don’t deserve.  
_

_For wanting to keep you for myself._

It wasn’t enough. There were no words Jason could think of that he wanted Tim to know. Not now, not when he had already fucked up so bad, had selfishly destroyed Tim’s happiness. “I love you.”

Tim relaxed against him, freeing his wrist only to fill the empty spaces between Jason’s fingers with his own. “I,” he started. “Me too.” 

It took another moment, a moment where Jason could just feel the warmth of Tim’s body, smell the scent of cigarettes on the sweater he had stolen from Jason, before he had to raise his head at the surprise in Tim’s voice. 

“Wait a minute,” he said, craning his neck to look at Jason. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” Jason pushed their entangled hands around Tim and pulled him back against his chest.

This time, Tim laughed. Laughed at something he said. “You so are.”

“Oh, bite me,” Jason grumbled against his neck. 

With a small smile on his face, Tim squeezed his hand. “What do you have to be jealous about?”

The ugly, green bug scratched against his ribs, though it hurt less now with Tim in his arms. Jason inhaled his scent, closing his eyes and letting his lips move against the scar he had given Tim long ago. Long ago but not forgotten. Never forgotten. “They make you happy.”

“So do you.” 

Guilt and shame and anger and all those feelings Tim would hate to know about. Jason knew he was being stupid, knew there was no reason at all to feel the way he did, but those kids had been with Tim for so long, had been there for him through so much and all Jason had done was hurt him. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

With a huff, Tim turned in his arms “No,” he said firmly. “You’re not allowed to feel sorry for that. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He put his hands on Jason’s face, making sure he was looking him in the eye. “I want you,” Tim said, replacing the dumb little bug with stupid ass butterflies that made Jason laugh when Tim kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jealous Jason it is. Hope you liked it; as always, I'm glad to hear from your here or on [tumblr](https://allumetterouge.tumblr.com) <3  
> Thanks for reading!


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